10 comments/ 85474 views/ 138 favorites Swallowing Dan By: Odeon If the first scene sounds familiar it's because I stole it from an older story that I deleted last year. The rest of the story moves in an entirely new direction, and should please readers who crave a cheating girlfriend doing her hot, cheating-girlfriend thing. Montana's glossy red fingernail tapped at the six-dollar vodka collins, which Pierce had just lined up beside two red wines. "This Pink Shirt's order?" "Hold on, I still need the margarita for his table." What she did next left him completely slack jawed. She spit directly into the vodka collins, and then spun her finger daintily through the ice until it disappeared amongst the seltzer bubbles. "Our little secret, K?" He couldn't believe it, his girlfriend routinely exercised a temper, but spitting in someone's drink was entirely beneath her. While he mixed the margarita to compete the order, she made a quick trip to the lady's room, and almost as soon as she left, Pink Shirt strolled up to his bar. "Is that Montana Sparks?" "Yep," "Knew it! That explains why she hasn't looked at me all night." He was a good sized cat, six-foot-one and roughly one-ninety, making him about dead even with Pierce. He was an attractive man with a slight resemblance to Ryan Gosling, and looked about twenty-five, the same age as Montana, so Pierce asked if they were possibly classmates. The guy pointed to the bathroom door. "Cheerleader!" He then turned the finger on himself. "High school quarterback." He glanced at the vodka collins. "This mine?" As he reached for it, Pierce covered the glass with his palm and dragged it off the bar. "Let me get you a fresh one." "Why, did she put something in there?" "Let me just get a fresh one, OK." "Please do. Un-freaking-believable!" He appeared more amused than mad, and as Pierce poured a fresh drink he began to laugh. "Women never forget, do they?" Montana returned, but the guy headed back to his table the instant he saw her coming. "What did he want?" "Just curious if your name happened to be Montana." "Shit!" "I'm guessing you two had something?" "Not a chance!" "Drinks are up––you'll have to give me the details next order." "I really don't want to go into it now. Actually, I don't ever intend to go into it. He's getting a special drink, that's as much as you need to know." She unknowingly took him a fresh Vodka Collins, and if she wasn't his girlfriend, Pierce swore he would've fired the insubordinate hostess. But as he watched her dynamite thighs disappear into the crowd, he realized insubordinate or not, those legs were irreplaceable. The reception dinner wrapped up around eight and as the caterers cleaned the plates, Montana came up and stood idly at the bar, waiting for Pierce to fill the first tray of stemmed champagne glasses with Martini & Rossi Prosecco. The wedding party required twenty full-size tables and filled the Elroy Ballroom from end to end, and would take the couple quite some time to deliver a full round of champagne. She picked up the tip jar and gave it a shake. "I think people are holding the groom's selection in wine against us. Look how light this is and we're already serving champagne." "Might be the wine, but it also wouldn't hurt for you to lighten up some. Move that ass, baby, that always loosens bill clips." "If you only knew what I'm up against tonight you wouldn't say that." "Pink Shirt and friends?" "You have no idea what dicks they are." He handed her a tequila shot. "This oughta help the mood." She hesitated a moment before accepting the little glass, mulling over whether he was serious or not. They'd met working at a Cuban bar, the only white people on staff and both pretty heavy drinkers, and it was way too easy for him to pour them free shots all night long, so they found themselves drunk almost every night and fucking like mad back at his place. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever known and at some point during those foggy nights they fell in love, and that miraculously garnered them the strength to quit drinking. Or at least set a reasonable limit. They'd had each other's back ever since, and by handing her a shot of tequila Dan essentially gave her permission to make a night of it. She smiled, knocked it back, and carried off a tray full of champagne, her ass finally showing life. That ass of hers wasn't fat, but it was damn juicy––a real voluptuous, gravity-defying, miracle from God. Her waist, on the other hand, was a narrow stretch of gorgeously flat terrain. And then there were her great fat tits with half dollar conical nipples. She told Pierce they were Ds, but he always thought of Ds as gratuitous top-heavy tits, while hers were firm and well proportioned, like your classic pin-up girls. And while the caterers all dressed in black slacks, the cocktail hostess wore a swank, extra-short, black, fluffy skirt with a white, fitted, collared shirt, and man did Montana put the curves in it. Pink Shirt marveled at the same thing Pierce did as he again approached his bar. "Hard to believe she was a little prissy once. Still every bit the bitch, though. You two together? Heh, I probably should've asked that before opening my big mouth." "As a matter of fact, she's my girlfriend." "Aw shit! Sorry man. I mean it, sorry." He held out his hand, "Dan Clemens." "Pierce. And don't sweat it––she's a handful, I know." "I bet she is a handful," Dan kidded, sexing up its meaning. As Montana braced the tray steadily on her arm, she suddenly felt uneasy about bending over to pass out the glasses in such a short skirt, and instead dipped her knees until she could reach the table. She'd worn the sexy, black skirt with the Lolita-style petticoat to make her boyfriend a little jealous of her flaunting an excessive amount of tone thigh to the wedding party. It was a little cruel, sure, but it never failed to turn him into an animal, and it had been awhile since they'd been intimate. What she hadn't anticipated was Dan being there, zeroing in on her thighs with a hungry smile, and that really pissed her off. And then, as she stooped to set another glass of champagne down at a table, she noticed Dan talking to her boyfriend at the bar again, and it almost looked as if they were having a good time. Fuck! She thought about confessing the whole embarrassing truth about Dan, but that would probably send Pierce into a rage. Also, in telling the story, she'd actually have to admit there was a time she'd had a crush on that jerk, and that was more than she could manage. As she worked her way towards the next gentleman, forcing a smile as she placed a glass of champagne in front of him, her mind sunk back into the past. She'd tried so hard to forget it all, but the painful memories began unraveling the instant she saw Dan's face. Most girls had had a crush on the handsome quarterback––there was no shame in that. He'd shown off in front of the cheerleaders during practice, and then ran close enough to give Montana the once over and a wink. It wasn't surprising, considering she had the best boobs in school. They were far better than Dan's girlfriend, who happened to be on the cheerleading squad alongside Montana. All Montana did was wave at him, but that was enough to set off his girlfriend. She remembered Dan's eyes bugging out and then a fiery pain as she was grabbed by her hair. Next thing she knew, she sat on top of the bitch as they pushed at each other's faces. A pair of hands quickly came around her and pulled her off. It was Dan, and he was lifting her and pulling her backwards by her boobs. She had no idea if he meant to grab her tits or if they were the only reachable part of her, but when the teachers finally noticed the commotion, they looked over to see Dan dragging a screaming cheerleader across the field by her tits. As a result, Dan was booted from the team. It was so stupid and embarrassing. Everyone blamed her for it, making school absolutely miserable. And it didn't end there. A couple of weeks later she decided to brave a house party. The football team showed up towards the end of the night, and although she tried to avoid them, one of them actually came up to her and offered her a beer. She couldn't believe they were finally forgiving her, and thanked the guy with a big smile. But then, when she was about halfway through the beer, she began to notice Dan and the team watching her out of the corner of their eyes and laughing. And when she finished it, a girl came up beside Montana and whispered Dan had come in the beer. She'd drank Dan's come! The guy next to Dan began pointing at Dan's dick, then at his beer, then towards Montana, and finally towards his stomach. Her fists tighten and she stormed across the room. Someone grabbed her before she could get to him, which is just as well, because she probably would have killed him. His come had made its way into her stomach, and she'd never live it down, nor would she ever get over it. She really wouldn't––she'd drank his come in front of half the senior class––how could she get over it? All the smiles being exchanged at the reception felt mocking, like those at the party, and she found it increasingly hard to look people in the eyes. She headed back to the bar, where her boyfriend finished pouring another tray of champagne. Dan was still there, and this time he didn't flee as she approached. "Hello Monty." She glanced at her boyfriend questioningly, wondering why he'd conversed with the enemy. "Hello Dan." "It's been what, five years? You look better than ever!" "Thanks, and it's been seven." "You're right, seven years we've been out of high school––Jesus time flies!" "I don't know about that, tonight seems to be dragging on forever." "Ha! Hey, I know you're working, but real quick––I want to apologize for being a complete jack-ass our senior year. You think you could forgive me?" She chuckled in disbelief, tapped the empty shot glass for a refill of tequila, killed it as fast as her boyfriend could pour it, and marched off with the tray of champagne. Pierce watched his girlfriend balance the tray and dip her knees to set it down. She'd worn that skirt that bordered on unacceptably short and looked like it belonged to a French maid's outfit. He had a love-hate relationship with that skirt. He hated that it drew the attention of every guy in the room, but loved how worked up it got Montana. He pictured her on all fours with her skimpy skirt flipped up as he worked though his jealousy. Pierce then noticed Dan watching his girlfriend while he leaned against the bar, and he couldn't help but smile. It would just be one more thing he'd have to work through with Montana later. "You're girlfriend found herself a great look, man. Nothing like her old preppy self!" Again Pierce only smiled. Dan was right––his girlfriend was serious eye-candy. He'd seen pictures of her from high school, and if it wasn't for the cigarette dangling from her mouth, they could've been from a shoot for The Gap or J. Crew. Always with her dark hair in a ponytail—usually tied back with a ribbon or bow—always in a printless sweater. Dan wasn't exaggerating about the preppy bit. Ever since he'd known her, though, she'd bleached her dark hair into platinum vibrance, deliberately keeping her dark roots—more a style statement than lack of upkeep. She'd experimented with different lengths, but right now it was his favorite: cascading waves that bounced on her shoulders and frequently escaped across her pouty, heart-shaped face. Tonight, she wore the usual heavy eyeliner, rose-red lipstick, and wore a loosened black tie around the unbuttoned collar of her white shirt. Thinking about those J. Crew days that Dan associated her with, Pierce laughed. She now looked stylish and oh-so-fuckable! A short while later, she came by for another tray of champagne and wrinkled her baby doll nose in annoyance as Dan turned to face her. "Monty, while you're here, there's very little in my life I need to apologize for, but—" "Seriously Dan, save your breath." "Hold on. There's something I gotta say––Beth was really jealous of you, and you really put me in an awkward spot with her." "You're telling me little-miss-prom-queen was jealous of me?" "Extremely jealous! But that's not the point. See, when I got kicked off the team they might as well have cut off my legs––because I lost everything that mattered. It's like, there I was, captain of the football team and everybody's hero, and then, poof, I'm just a regular guy showing up for after parties. It was difficult, you understand?" "If you're looking for pity, Dan, try sobbing to one of the girls you didn't..." She looked at Pierce before continuing: "You didn't humiliate in front of the few friends she had left." "Look, I am sorry. I was eighteen and stupid, I wanted to stay tight with my team. I didn't have their respect on the field anymore, not after you got me sacked." "Wait a minute, I got you sacked? I never asked you to..." Again she looked at Pierce. He began to tap his finger nervously, wondering what she held back. "You're right, and I always knew that, but the team blamed you even if I didn't. And at the party—" Dan cut himself off. Pierce tapped his finger harder. It didn't sound like his girlfriend had ever dated this guy, but they were certainly hiding something. "Pierce, didn't I just say my biggest regret in high school was not getting to know Montana better? And what a lucky guy you are to have her?" "He did," Pierce answered, and noticing his girlfriend's hand in a trembling fist, he poured another shot to ease her nerves. Montana might've come off as a friendly flirt, but she had a temper when crossed, a bad one. He smiled as he handed her the tequila, and she killed it before carrying off the tray of champagne. The tequila sat warm in Montana's stomach as she set down the last tray of champagne. She felt it in her cheeks, too, and it was such a welcomed feeling. Her hand didn't shake once as she lifted the thin stemmed glass, even when a gentleman placed his hand on the small of her back and thanked her close to her ear. Her nerves and tension were going comfortably numb. The Pink Floyd song pleasantly drifted into her head. Pink Floyd was one of Pierce's bands that she actually enjoyed. Looking back towards the bar, she saw Dan had finally grown bored of her boyfriend and left, which calmed her nerves even more than the tequila. It would be stupid for Dan to tell Pierce she'd drank his come at a party, but Dan was reckless. There was no telling what he would or wouldn't do. It was a big relief to have them apart. And as she glided through the crowd with pronounced agile moves, again thanks to the alcohol, she wondered if her boyfriend would even care. Dan had called it a stupid mistake, which could describe ninety-percent of high school. Pierce would understand––yes, she drank Dan's come, but that was just stupid ole high school stuff. Still, a sickening feeling came over her just thinking about it. What kind of girl was she when the entire football team could get behind a prank like that? Even if Pierce did dismiss it as high school bullshit, she couldn't. It needed to disappear from her life, along with Dan, for good! The tequila had relaxed her so much she suddenly realized she was bending over instead of crouching. As she set the drink down she scanned the room quickly, and sure enough, Dan stared at her ass from across the room. The tension returned tenfold, with her almost dropping the tray of champagne on a silver haired woman. God damn it, her boyfriend had better have another tequila shot waiting at the bar or she'd lose it for sure. When she got there and set the empty tray flat on the bar, she tapped the empty shot glass with a pleasant smile on her face. Pierce shook his head no, and her smile slowly faded. "Just a last one." "You're already a little drunk. Finish off the night and you can have one afterwards if you still really need it." Annoyance crept over her but she managed to bring the corners of her mouth back up. "Please." He shook his head again. Pierce was protecting her from old habits, she got that, but this was just about tonight. Dan was too much to bear. It would only be the one night, why couldn't he understand. She had to look away she was so annoyed, and felt her brow furrow unpleasantly. "I'll give you one more if you tell me everything you're not telling me about this Dan guy." "That's not fair." "Sorry then." "For real?" Her annoyance turned to anger. He was actually trying to control her! He silently stood and she rocked her jaw, until she just gritted out, "Fine," and turned away. "Hey, looks like that tables ready to order." Pierce pointed towards a table of mostly guys, half of which raised empty beer bottles trying to get her attention. It was Dan's table, and he sat with four more guys from his old high school football team. "Don't keep them waiting." Distain burned in her boyfriend's voice. He was jealous. He was being stupid. But she was beyond furious. Montana refused to look back at him as she marched towards the table of ex-jocks. She'd gotten drinks for the table earlier, but the two wives in attendance were elsewhere, and all five guys sat huddled together. Dan waved her close, a big smug smile on his face. Her anger at Pierce mixed with her disgust for Dan in a way that made her feel crushed between emotions. She breathed in and her breath hitched, which meant tears were only seconds away. Shoving her feelings down as best she could, she approached the table. They were all a little drunk and sang her name as she neared. She so did not want to give them the pleasure of seeing her cry, but it was coming. She couldn't stop it. "The guys have something to say, Monty." To her amazement, one by one, they said they were sorry. The guy who'd handed her the beer with Dan's come so long ago took her hand and told her he'd felt bad about it ever since. Since the time she'd last seen him his eyes had sunk in deeper, and they were the same shade of blue used on sympathy cards. He was a huge man, his hand dwarfing hers, but his eyes were so unbelievably gentle and sincere. She dumbly stared for a minute, the tense furrow in her forehead gradually working itself out. A simple apology had never fixed much in her life, but the look on his face had a tremendous affect. Tears did come then, and she quietly weeped, "Excuse me," and rushed out of the ballroom. Pierce had just inserted a spout into a fresh bottle of Tanqueray, when he saw Montana rushing out the grand doors along the side of the ballroom. Fuck! He narrowed his amber-brown eyes at the empty shot glass she'd tapped only a few minutes ago. Damn could his girlfriend's temper make his life hell––he'd now have to solo at the bar. There were nights at the Cuban bar when she was so far gone he'd have to help her make change. She'd eventually remember how it was and realize he was only trying to help, but until then he was screwed. To curb his own temper, he thought ahead to tonight, when he'd flip that skimpy little skirt up onto her back and tear down her black panties. God was his girlfriend fucking hot! He'd put up with anything as long as he got to slip his dick in between her gorgeous ass cheeks. In lieu of a waitress, people began approaching the bar. Dan was one of them, two twenties scissored in his fingers. He ordered for his whole group, and as Pierce prepared the drinks, Dan looked over the grand doors where Montana had exited. "I had the guys apologize, and it must have caught her off guard." "OK, I've got to know, what is all this apologizing about? And why does she utterly hate you?" Swallowing Dan "Well, it was stupid. High school stuff, you know? At a party, someone handed her a beer, and this beer, well, the beer had come in it." Dan snorted a surprised laugh. "That's why she hates you?" "Yeah, that's pretty much why. We kind of set her up." "That's terrible. It certainly explains why she spit in your first drink, though" Pierce barely got the words out before breaking into full laughter. "Anyway, I never thought she'd get as upset as she did, but I think she might understand how bad we feel about it now. And so I was wondering, would you'd be OK if I asked her to dance? I feel like I owe it to her." Pierce shook his head. "Yeah, that's fine." He then pointed to the drinks he just prepared for Dan. "Hold the come?" Montana was sitting on a red leather couch in the middle of the hotel lobby, just a ways down from the Ballroom. As people strolled through the lobby, coming and going, she massaged her temples and struggled to keep her short skirt down, but the springing chiffon pleats kept popping up in a bad way. The couch sunk as a body took up residence beside her, and she removed her hand from her temples to issue an annoyed look. She returned her hand when she saw Dan, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. He just couldn't take a hint. "Hey, I got a present for you." When she looked again, he held out a shot glass of tequila. She went to take it and then stopped, not wanting to give Dan an excuse to stay. He pushed it into her hand, and then revealed the second shot seated on his other palm. "A quick toast, to the bride and groom." "Fine," she said. She brushed Dan's fingers as she took hold of the small glass, and the touch released a crack of static electricity. "OK, here we go, to Mr. and Mrs." Montana downed the shot before he could finish. "Wow, thirsty?" He then threw his back and breathed out. She made the mistake of addressing his face as she thanked him, catching his blue steadfast eyes, kindly sloped at either end. In high school, she'd day-dreamed he was an airline pilot or WWII hero, because he held such stern confidence in his face and the body to make a uniform look absolutely yummy. But those were only day dreams––Dan was no hero. He wasn't even a nice guy. She quickly looked the other way, wrapping her arms over her tits. He stood up. "Listen, at this point I know it's useless to keep apologizing, so I'll let you be. I just wanted to bring you the drink. But, there is a really fantastic party going on in there, and I feel like I owe you a dance. Would you care to dance with me, Montana Sparks?" He extended one arm while setting the other on Montana's shoulder. The touch sent a hot jolt through her body, and this time, it wasn't static electricity. A wedding at the Elroy Ballroom, with its fairytale sized chandeliers and blue velvet curtains lining the silver ornate walls, has to be the romantic setting every woman dreams about––and as Dan pulled her close, his arm circling around her back, she glided right into him. From behind his bar, Pierce watched his girlfriend dance with her high school quarterback, and slammed a beer bottle into the trash. Montana liked weddings, even after working so many. She was a romantic at heart, he knew that, and she was only indulging in the atmosphere. She would never actually cheat. His girlfriend then rested her head on Dan's shoulder and they swayed their bodies pleasurably to "Dancing Queen". Dan uncorked a fresh bottle of wine. He closed his eyes and saw Montana's skirt flipped over her back, her lacy panties down to her knees, and his dick gliding in between her ass cheeks. The longer they danced, the harder he imagined fucking her. Fuck, he wasn't even going to let her make it home. As soon as they packed up he'd nail his girlfriend right in their van. It was happening. Dan held her close and they swayed to the music. His cologne was intoxicating and his skin a vibrant treat to touch. Her feelings were changing so quickly she became lightheaded. It's not that she felt like the incident with the come never happened. It did. She would never forget it. But she was now remembering how things were before the prank. Dan used to give her a gentlemanly two-finger salute as he passed her in the hall, and say, 'Looking as beautiful as ever, Montana.' If he was coming down the hall with friends, he'd even break their conversation to deliver the compliment. It would be halfway through her next class before she could think about anything but his perfect smile. And as their bodies bounced left and right to the music, she thought of him on the field, running with his perfect posture, his chest way out front, and then cutting so fast the defenders landed on the ground as he shot the other way. "Now this isn't so bad, is it?" he said, with the same heroic smile that had cost her a grade so many years ago. She pressed herself closer to him, her tits against his chest. She was blessed in that department, and she knew it. Fuck, why be modest? She was way hot. It's why she landed a boyfriend who could easily be a model, and was now dancing with the best looking guy in her high school class. Dan's arm lowered down her back, the bottom of his palm settling on the top of her ass. She told herself it was the tequila making her so warm and relaxed, and not the feel of his chest pressed up against her. She then had the urge to touch his face, and that had to be the tequila. She resisted, and just let herself fall into him, flowing to the rhythm and feeling his cheek on the side of her head. She hoped to god Pierce was watching, because he'd be a wild man when they got home, and she was oh so ready for it. When the song ended, he walked her off the dance floor, leading with a firm hand on her lower back. They stood for a moment, and for once she had no idea what to say. She didn't like him. He was such an asshole. It was so fucked what he did—although what it was had momentarily slipped her mind—but he was still an asshole! She was pissed! So pissed! Yes! No... The little pissed off furnace inside her, which continually spat out harsh licks of fire, was nothing but a cooling pile of embers. It was gone, and she felt so dopey without it. In its absence she could only stand there, staring up at his heroic face. She then had the horrible realization that her mouth hung open, and suddenly she shot outside herself, finding her consciousness floating a few feet away, staring in terror at a little twerp of a girl gawking at the big handsome man smiling sweetly over her. Even worse, she was horny, and she hoped to god her big green eyes did not tell him that. Pierce always knew when she was in the mood to be naughty, and if she revealed that to Dan, he'd think she was horny for him! Because... she was? The feel of his chest, his heat, his hands on her, it was so fucking wonderful. Dan then pulled out his wallet, produced a business card in scissored fingers and slipped it to her. "That was really nice. We should hangout soon, and have a drink or two." He then let her be, as he returned to his table. She looked towards the bar, where her boyfriend poured a glass of wine for a nice looking blonde. He hadn't seen Dan hand her the card, and she quickly tucked it into her white collared shirt pocket. If Pierce saw that he'd get the wrong idea for sure, because she had no intentions of calling Dan. She didn't, she really, really didn't. Stepping up to the bar, with her hips still following the music, she rested her hand on top of her boyfriend's. He looked at her touch, his eyebrows angling. "It's time to start breaking things down," he said, pulling his hand away. She watched him stoop to grab a liqueur crate hiding under the tablecloth. He did everything he could to ignore her, which meant he was extremely jealous. That was good, because she needed to be fucked in a bad way. As her boyfriend carted two crates out to the parking garage, she went to use the ladies room. On the way, just outside the bathroom door, a member of the football team stopped her. It was the guy who'd handed her the beer filled with Dan's come, and who's pleading eyes and apology had brought on tears. "Real quick, Monty, I just want you to know my apology was sincere." "I know, Carl. But I'm OK now." "That's good. But there's something more. I don't know if everyone was as sincere I was. Dan just told me something, and I'd feel like a real ass if I let it go." Montana suddenly felt queasy. "After you two danced, he said something to the guys." He hesitated as Montana's big green eyes wavered anxiously. "He said he had you just about ready for another drink of his..." He couldn't say the word. "And that this time you'd be drinking it straight from his..." He pointed to his own crotch. Montana remained speechless as the news sunk in. "Dan's a good guy, but he'll always choose to show off over doing the right thing." She forced a smile at him, thanked him for telling her and let him know everything was still OK. Once inside the bathroom, however, she dropped her forehead to the wall, and said aloud, "That fucking asshole." It was only guy talk. He was just showing off to his friends the way guys do, and she shouldn't let it get to her. But it did. It proved he hadn't changed. Being so nice to her all night had nothing to do with him genuinely feeling bad about the prank. He just saw an opportunity to fuck her, that's all it was. She'd spit in his drink, there was that, but it wasn't close to what he'd done to her. And then she'd actually allowed him the satisfaction of dancing with her. Fuck, was she ever stupid! She carefully avoided everyone on the walk to the parking garage and down to the van, where her boyfriend had just finished loading everything into the very back compartment. "We all set?" "Just about," he said. He then roughly grabbed her and pulled her close against him. His mouth came down on hers hard, and his tongue moved along side of hers with force. She'd been so angry, she'd forgotten her jealous boyfriend would be in the mood to fuck. But as his hands squeezed into her ass, she was quickly reminded. The touch of his lips also reminded her that she'd been tingling with excitement all night long in anticipation of getting her boyfriend's hard cock inside her. She pulled her mouth from his and spoke hurriedly. "Get me home, because I want you so bad." A devilish smile spread over his face. He lifted her with ease and carried her through the side door of the van. Did he plan to fuck her right there in the parking garage? He cradled the back of her head and pulled her close for another kiss. Their warm tongues rolled together like lovers in bed, while his fingers clawed into her platinum hair and dug into her darker caramel roots. He lifted the loose tie over her head, and then quickly ran his hands down her white, collared shirt, loosening each button on the way. The shirt dropped from her shoulders straight to the floor, and then her lacy, black bra followed. Breaking away for a moment, he moved back on his knees, drinking in the sight of her. Her large tits stood out proud, ample enough to touch one another and firm enough to stay up high on her chest. He pulled his eyes from them to throw a padded shipping blanket over the van floor, and then patted it like a comfy bed. She flipped up the front of her short black skirt and tugged the front of her panties down until the top of her clean-shaven mound came into view. She then teasingly let the elastic band snap back in place. If he wanted her, he'd have to take her. And boy did he want her. A minute later he was fully naked, and Montana found herself on her back as he slid her panties from her feet. He then positioned himself between her, leaving her spread eagle. The Lolita-style petticoat fell with the satiny skirt backwards on to her waist, as she awaited her boyfriend's dick to press just a little harder against her pussy and enter. He pushed in, slowly at first, and then slamming it home, her belly jumping as prickly waves of pleasure raced up her spine. All her tension went out of her. She'd longed to feel him inside her. She'd been preoccupied with sex all day, her enlivened libido being triggered off by the littlest things. She could barely contain herself earlier in the day, when Pierce lifted the liquor crates out of their living room. The mere sight of his arms flexing and back straining backwards as he lifted it to his waist made her want to fuck him right then and there. And now the moment was upon her as he speared her towards heaven. His hips bolted backwards, his dick out. She pulled at his wide shoulders, needing him back inside her, crushing her. He obliged, thrusting down, his cock going in full force. He hadn't wasted a second, pulling zero to sixty on her in record time. She was wet and ready, had been all night until... No, she was not going to think about him now. She needed to stay in the moment. She needed this. Continuing the rapid intercourse, he raised up on his arms, going at it harder now that he had more room to work. Her heart was a flutter, all the teases she'd experienced throughout the day left her wildly sensitive, and within minutes he'd nearly hammered her towards an orgasm. Then he was up on his knees, clutching her hips and driving in harder still. Her legs fell apart and he placed one hand on her stomach to pin the bouncy chiffon petticoat flat, preventing it from brushing against his abs. As she looked down over her body, witnessing her bald mound glistening with their combined excitement, her tone thighs quivering with each thrust, and her hips gyrating about the floor, she also became aware of a creak coming from the van's shocks. The sound had a rhythm that coincided with her boyfriend's pelvis banging into her. He rammed into her so hard the van rocked like a boat. The creaking grew louder, so loud it became a distraction from her pending orgasm. Jesus, they were in a public parking garage, and the van was rocking with a loud rhythmic noise. Pierce looked over his shoulder at the sound, and then altogether stopped. He pulled open the side door as she sat up on her knees. Where the hell was he going? He then reached back and took her outside of the van with him. She would've been cold if she wasn't smoldering inside. He'd parked the van in the last spot on that level, next to a solid concrete wall. He'd also parked it crooked, so the back of the van angled towards the wall. That angle kept them hidden from anyone driving by, but someone walking by could potentially see through the narrow space. She stood there naked except for her skirt, her arms wrapped tightly over her big tits, creating a gorgeous amount of cleavage. Her boyfriend had stripped down to nothing, his huge hardon poked out in front of him, and he didn't seem to care. He moved her towards the front of the van, alongside the wheel well, and then bent her forwards. She placed her hands on the stubby, van hood as he flipped her skirt up and inched inside from behind. Flashes of heat tingled her skin and around her waist, and her pussy flat out burned. "Oooo-aaahhh-mmmm!" The tight echo inside the parking garage fractured her moan over itself, doubling the volume. Pierce jammed himself into the hilt, and she experienced both the very private sensation of a cock inside mixed with the very public drone of footsteps and cars. It made her feel super dirty in the best of ways. Pierce was really on his game tonight. Her orgasm began to build again, and gauzy heat spun in her head, teasing her closer to climax. He arched his back and held her waist, posing like earlier, when he'd carried the liqueur crates. Her back bowed as well, only perpendicular to his. Her tone thighs assumed a wide stance to help stay balanced, and she was grateful the rubber soles of her strapped waitress shoes could grip so tightly to the concrete floor. Her mind boggled over how horny she'd been. She'd always liked sex more than her girlfriends claimed to, but she'd been on fire today. And then, as her boyfriend pumped his cock into her, she drifted back to the divine moment when Dan's chest pressed against hers as they danced. She shook her dirty blonde hair, bringing herself back to the present. She hated Dan. But as her pending orgasm spun in her head, humming as it past her ears, he visited her again. Out of the velvet darkness of her desires came the kind yet mischievous, heroic yet dangerous smile she'd gawked upon less than an hour ago. His cologne lingered on her clothes, teasing her nose into sensing he was still really there. Her temper flared, but the heat inside her flared with it, bumping her closer and closer to the edge. She struggled against it, but her body responded so strongly she simply couldn't help doting on how his strong arms felt around her, and how his hips swayed sweetly with her own. And at one point, hadn't he brushed his thigh against her in way that allowed her to feel more than just his thigh? Fuck! That did it, she was coming. "So that Dan guy, he and his friends gave you a beer full of come, huh?" Startled by her boyfriend's voice, she lost her ability to have her orgasm peacefully inside the public garage. "Oh fuck, baby, ooooooooohhh!" She couldn't hear a thing after that. Total pleasure jailed up her consciousness, and the only baggage to survive the trip was the sudden discovery her boyfriend knew her darkest, most troubling secret. Her skin tingled to the point it stung. "Oh god yes!" He knew she'd drank Dan's come. "Oh God no!" And out of it all came a vision of herself kneeling as Dan shot into her mouth. The guy with sorrowful eyes spoke in her head. "He said you were about ready for another drink of his... And this time you'd drink it straight from his..." It kicked her deeper into orgasm and the vision of swallowing his load seared itself into her brain. She was being vocal yet well aware she shouldn't be, and it only made her impulse to scream out loud that much more intense. Her shoulders pinched up, her head sunk down into her chest, and needles pricked her from all directions. And as the burst of ecstasy slowly receded, she heard Pierce's question again. "You really drank a beer full of come, huh?" Straining to find her voice, she crackled out, "He told you that? He told you I drank his come?" The pounding escalated. Her orgasm had left her muscles slack, and she was tossed to and fro like a rag doll between his hips and the front of the van. Jealousy had him in a sexual frenzy. "It was Dan's come?" Fuck! Had Dan had the wisdom to withhold his involvement from her boyfriend? Of course he had! And because she hadn't, her boyfriend was now fucking her so hard she felt ready to collapse. Maybe she'd overdone it tonight and made her boyfriend too jealous. She craved a long overdo fucking, but he was outright out of control. Still descending from her plateau, she heard footsteps, just barely audible over the deep growl of cars on the upper deck and the harsh impact of their bodies. And then came the sharp screech of laughter, two distinct laughs shattering against the concrete surroundings. She bit her lower lip, desperately swallowing her screams. And then, as she peered through the front windshield and back out the passenger side window, her line of sight clearing the top of the Honda Civic parked next to them, she saw him. There was Dan, walking past all the parked cars, talking with an old teammate, both headed straight towards her. Panic overtook her already pounding heart. Her boyfriend had lost any discretion once he'd learned whose come rode the beer into her belly. She couldn't speak, but even if she could he was pounding her wet pussy now, and there'd be no stopping him. Swallowing Dan She was wracked with conflicting emotions. She hated Dan, and feared the deep humiliation of him discovering her naked, disheveled and sweaty, and behaving so impetuously slutty in public. But she'd also beheld his face for real, and his heroic smile and confident eyes flooded her body with so much heat she could feel it rising off her into the cold air—and the wonderful stab of her boyfriend's cock plunging in and out became far more stimulating with Dan so near. She fought hard not to think of him, but couldn't pull her eyes from his strong, lean frame. Pierce's hand locked to her waist, his hips slamming against her, and his cock buried into her excited pussy. Her body craved it so bad she risked being found out, and mumbled softly, 'Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!' Dan and his former teammate had stopped at a car, and hugged each other the way men do, barely a bump of the chest accompanied by a firm forearm clutch on the back, and then his teammate climbed into his car and Dan began walking their way again. A few more feet and he'd surely hear the clap, clap, clap of her boyfriend slamming against her tight ass, the echo not only amplifying the sound but sharpening it. Finally she looked away from him, back towards Pierce, and whispered someone was coming. Pierce leaned his head over until he could see through the van windows and smiled when he spied Dan walking towards. "We'll, well, speak of the devil." Delight percolated from his voice, and he slammed her harder still. "Bet that dick wishes he was me right now." "Don't say that," she said to herself, "don't dare say that!" She bit her lip spying up at Dan through the windows, as her boyfriend thrust in hard from behind. He was only five cars away now, and headed straight for them. "Mr. Dan the Quarterback must've really missed his favorite cheerleader," her boyfriend whispered, pacing the words to his assault. She could see the gritty blue of Dan's eyes, and they brought back her favorite high school cheer. 'Break through the defense, the quarterback's our man! Score, quarterback, score, the quarterback's our man.' Her debauched mind then cruelly conjured up an image of herself lying on a bleacher seat, cheering the cheer as Dan drove into her, grabbing her raised ankles and making her legs clap twice at the end of each rallying verse. "Oh God no!" Dan was just two cars away and had to hear bodies smacking together. She preyed he blamed something mechanical, like the air conditioning malfuctioning. Her boyfriend continued to boast in whispers. "Here we are, Mr. Dan the Quarterback, right here where I'm scoring the touch down you only dreamed of." Oh god, did Dan really dream that? Her pussy drenched her boyfriend's cock. If Pierce knew why, it would crush him to pieces. He'd crush her to pieces! Dan then pulled out his keys and unlocked his BMW parked one slot over. Just as he opened the door, Pierce began ramming her like never before. Her hands braced on the van were causing it to rock ever so slightly. Dan looked up, smiled, and glanced through the van windows just as she dropped her head. "Sounds like someone's getting real lucky," he called out, and then climbed into his car. Montana's heart raced and her thighs shivered. Once again she'd plateaued, and just as the BMW's engine started with a roar, she screamed out, "Oh god Pierce, I'm coming! Make me come. Make me come like a dirty girl, you bastard. Oh god, I hate you for making my pussy feel so good. I hate you for making me want to fuck you so bad. I hate you for making me want your dick so bad!' She was coming so hard she had no idea what she was saying, and then it reached a point where she flat out collapsed. Pierce grabbed her around the waist and held her firmly impaled on his dick. He was obviously swimming in pride over how strongly he'd made Montana come, and asked, "Who makes you come so good, baby." Her orgasm tore gasps and whimpers from her throat as she tried to answer. It was for the best Pierce couldn't understand a word she said, or else he'd know that during the most intense climax they'd ever shared, Montana had been quite preoccupied with Dan. As the BMW pulled out and began to drive away, her boyfriend shook and stopped moving, her ass completely mashed up against his pelvis. He unloaded a massive amount of come inside her as she hung limply in front of him. Her head buzzed, her ears rang, and behind her eyes, purples and pinks bled together in fuzzy union. Dan was still fucking there in the colorful darkness. She was on her knees before him, his cock in her mouth. As she slowly approached earth again, she felt her boyfriend's hands caressing her butt under the flipped up skirt, admiring his handy work, the illicit climax he'd ripped from Montana. It was his cock that fucked her, and his come inside her, yet she raised her head up to the van's windshield, sweat streaming down the side of her face, searching for something more in the empty parking slot on the other side--woefully empty. She'd let Dan humiliate her in way she hadn't thought possible. Despite her contempt for him he'd managed to inflict just enough charm to bring her back to his handsome sweeping cheekbones, his unkempt yet stylish hair with the blonde Superman curl, and the extraordinarily fit body of an ex-athlete. His blue eyes had conned her into betraying her boyfriend, whose cock went limp inside her and who was certain her pussy only belonged to him. And then, as Pierce lifted her and carried her naked back into the van, she clung to his neck and swore Dan would pay. *** Pierce stood in the modern kitchen, the lip of the black granite counter tops pressing cold on his naked ass. The reflective chrome toaster opposite him displayed the back of his girlfriend's head bobbing fiercely at his crotch. Down by the flush handless cabinets kneeled the real thing, his shaft disappearing into her mouth, and reappearing with a very satisfying wet sheen. She was doing him so good he had to white knuckle the counter top. A half-eaten sandwich sat on a plate behind him. His dinner had been interrupted without warning, when his girlfriend dropped to her knees and started blowing him. He had no problems letting his lady eat first, however, that's just the kind of guy he was. She'd been horny all week, ever since the wedding. On a hunch, while doing it in their bed, he brought up her old high school friend, and she almost bit his head off, yelling, "What is going to take to make you understand how much I hate Dan? Would you please stop being such a jealous moron!" Despite her insistence, something about the night the two of them danced upset him, even now, and to make himself feel better he grabbed the back of her head and gave a little assistance. Usually when he pulled that move she'd immediately stop and look up, her angry green eyes demanding he'd better be fucking kidding. But as he laced his fingers into her long, platinum hair, digging all the way down to the darker roots, and thrust his hips gently forwards, his girlfriend actually went with it. In fact, she was all business, hollowing her cheeks, pressing up with her tongue, making full, warm, soft contact from her pouty lips to her tender throat. He'd never met a girl who could give a blow job quite like her, she just preferred to be in control, which is why it surprised him to be grabbing her head and actually fucking into her mouth. "God damn, baby, you're doing that too good. I might lose it already!" As he thrust into her mouth, her big green eyes stared upwards. They were so gentle and compliant that he had to question if she wasn't playing him—allowing herself to be his own personal fuck-toy so she could go off on him for it later. But Jesus did she look hot with her cheeks hollowed and lips swollen to form fit his dick. She was so ridiculously hot he wondered how he'd ever landed her. When his dick slid outwards he could see down her top, into the glorious cleavage presented by her extremely sexy pink dress. The dress was made of a sheer springy material with a black rose print, and almost skin tight. It had spaghetti straps that left the thin straps of her black, lacy bra visible. A yellow gossamer-mesh sweater clung to the edge of her shoulders, but left her prominent collarbone, neck and chest completely exposed. One reason her tits looked bigger than usual was the pink dress hugged her waist, showing off her flat stomach and contrasting it against her pin-up girl bosom and curvaceous ass. She also wore a black bead necklace, with a single strand of beads hanging from its center, dangling down between her soft globes. Her fingers were digging into the back of his thighs. She took almost all of him––all six-and-three-eighth inches. Montana's, face was just so pretty, too pretty to have a cock stuffed in her mouth. Her cute nose, cool flat cheeks, slender jaw––they were all so preciously pretty. He felt guilty about violating them with his big dick. Although her pretty face spurred his thoughts in another direction, too, and he had to resist the urge to really hammer his dick into all that prettiness. The temptation to do so grew stronger the longer he stared down into her big eyes. They were surrounded by light eye shadow and thick eyeliner that popped her green irises forwards in a hauntingly alluring way. Which was another thing that amazed him about the spontaneous blow job––she had just finished getting ready to go out with her girlfriends. And now her lipstick was a goner, her hair was getting mussed up, and considering how far down her throat his six-and-three-eighth-inches reached, she'd soon shed tears and lose the eyeliner too. Then again, maybe she decided to thank him with the killer blow job because he was being so cool about her night out with her girlfriends. It wasn't that often she got to dress up and have fun. He slowed down a little bit to prolong the moment, but she wouldn't have it, and sped right back up, her cheeks crushing in and her tongue undulating along the underside of his shaft. She became so aggressive her tits started bouncy madly and his balls actually slapped her chin. Fuck, he was going to lose it. "Oh shit, babe, I'm there, I'm fucking there. I'm coming, babe, here it comes!" He tightened his grip on her head as ecstasy squeezed at his brain and he neared unconsciousness. His balls tightened, and come flew up and out his shaft. She didn't make a move to get away, not with his hands locked tightly on her pretty head, and he exploded in her mouth. Holy fuck! It was a major load, leaving him babbling how much he loved her as his cock pulsed come over her tongue and she breathed hard and shaky through her nose. And then his big six-and-three-eighths-inches and its massive load became too much for her. She scooted back a few feet, stood, and tore down the hall towards the bathroom. Jesus, he must have come straight down her throat and made her gag. He pulled up his pants and shook his head to clear his senses, and then went to see if his girlfriend was OK. She'd shut the door, so he knocked and asked if everything was cool. "Yeah, it just went a little too far down." He felt like a complete ass, although his pride was soaring. He was big, he'd looked it up, six-and-three-eighths inches was well above average. He should have been more careful. Then again, he'd just earned some bragging rights. Five minutes later she came out, her lips looking fine, lipstick reapplied, and a minty freshness on her breath. He gave her a kiss and a hug, and explained how he loved her. She was so pretty and so beautiful, and could be so insatiably sexual at times. "So I have no idea why I got lucky tonight. But you're still only allowed two drinks, that hasn't changed." She brushed his cheek. "I know, I just love you." Mischief crept up in her voice, "And... I'm going out with the girls, so there'll be a terrible shortage of this." Her hand brushed over his crotch, and again her baby doll lips pressed against his. *** The bartender asked what she'd have, his bristly beard undulating with his words. Montana held her breath a moment and then ordered a single shot of El Mayor Reposado. Dan was paying, so why let it go to waste. The bartender was handsome, but rougher than she liked, and he perked up when he heard her order. "You know your tequilas, huh?" Dan answered for her. "She's a cocktail waitress, and a damn good one." Montana tugged her gossamer-mesh sweater a little higher on her shoulders. The bar had a draft, or maybe it was just the bartender's eyes. The shot landed on the bar, Dan scooted it along the heavily varnished wood towards her and guilt immediately set in. She was breaking promises left and right. There was to be one drink with her girlfriends and one more with Dan, but the girls were so much fun, and the margaritas so good she couldn't sit out the second round. The tequila with Dan was her third drink, breaking her promise to Peirce. But then again, she was out with Dan behind his back, and an extra drink seemed like small potatoes compared with that. "Fuck it," she said, raising her shot glass. She clinked it against Dan's vodka and tonic and then gulped it down. "You're my kind of woman," the bartender said, ready on the pour as her glass came down. She shook her head, but he filled the glass anyway. "Just watching you drink is worth a free one." He then sent a second little glass spinning in the air, caught it, and slammed it down next to hers. This one he poured for himself. "Thank you. You know I've always had a thing for bartenders." Dan pounded the bar. "Damn, and here I thought you had a thing for quarterbacks." She rolled her head back, letting her shadowed, upper eyelids lower seductively, and leaving just the glow of her brilliant green irises peeking between the black eyeliner. "Only the nice ones." She then raised her tequila towards Dan's vodka and tonic, but at the last second, she redirected it towards the handsome rough bartender. He clinked his little glass to hers, and together they knocked back the amazing Reposado. The bartender smiled at Montana and Dan interrupted. "Alright, Franklin, don't you have some business at the other end of the bar?" He may or may not of had any business, but Franklin strutted away with grandiose pride. Now that Dan had sole ownership of her attention, he only stared at her, his staunch blue eyes beaming out a warning. "What? You still have a long ways to go to make up for what you did." "Well, you're here with me, so I can't have that far to go." "Clever boy." "Damn, Monty, you are really something. If in high school someone told me you'd grow to be even prettier, I would've said they were full of crap. But look at you! You really are even more gorgeous." She actually blushed. "OK, I think you just made it up to me a little tiny bit." His hand moved over hers. "You know I have a boyfriend," she said, addressing his affectionate touch, "I'm here as a friend, and only a potential friend and that." "OK Monty, I can do the friend thing for as long as you can." She laughed with him. "You are still the most cockiest bastard ever." "Hey, I call it shooting from the hip." "Oh my god, I remember that line from high school. You are the exact same guy." Her eyes wandered from his face, intrigued by how tight the shoulders of his shirt stretched over his deltoids and the pearl buttons on his collared shirt tugged slightly over the girth of his chest. The instant she realized what she was doing, she began to blush again. He was in such good shape, but she couldn't let that affect her judgment. She thought hard about that night at the party, how sick it made her feel when she learned she'd drank his come. He was every bit as gorgeous as before, and every bit as bad for her, dangerous even. Ever since the wedding he'd pop into her mind at the worst times, mainly when she was trying to do it with her boyfriend. She had to put a stop to it, and it had to be tonight! "I remember seeing you in the halls between class and wondering why the prettiest girl in school wasn't heading up the pack of marginally attractive popular girls. And what'd I use to say? You're prettier than them all, Montana. Was that it?" "As beautiful as ever," she corrected. "You probably saved the other line for Beth." "Hardly." "What? She was your girlfriend our entire senior year." "Eh! She looked good on paper." His eyes darted across the room. "I'll let you in on a secret. I was actually glad you beat her ass up that day." "No you weren't. You were the one who pulled me off. God I was so going to hurt her!" "Well, she was my girlfriend. I would've been a very sorry man if I stood by letting you beat her senseless." He sipped his drink. "You know what she's like, turning the whole school against you." Her brow furrowed at the thought of it, and Dan held her hand again. "And I'm so sorry for that shit, I never meant to grab you there. They just...," he overtly glanced at her cleavage, framed by her stretchy, pink dress, "...got in the way." "Well, you really paid the price for that one. And I'm not saying I'm convinced you didn't mean to do it, but even I thought it was unfair kicking you off the team." He raised his glass in a toast, only to realize her tequila shot was gone. "You need a drink, let me get Franklin back over to pour another round." Montana didn't argue, the last gave her courage, and she really needed courage for what was coming. Dan put an arm on her shoulder, like a lover would, possessing her as he called to Franklin. And, leaning closer to her than he'd been all night, close enough for her to breathe in his captivating cologne, he sweetly inquired, "You ever think we'd end up here like this, sharing a drink and civilized conversation?" Her hand found his jean covered thigh all on its own. It was intentional, she meant to lead him on, or so she told herself. As she rubbed her hand up and down his developed quads, she imagined herself more and more as the girl in La Femme Nikita, indulging in a little disarming fun before taking out her mark. She was hunting him, after all, and hunters are bound to become a little excited over their prey, it was only natural, right? Franklin poured them another round, and once again included himself. Dan then raised his fresh drink with Montana and Franklin followed his lead, "Here's to the femme fatal who got me kicked off my football team." He smiled, waiting for Montana to argue the point, but she only shook her head amusedly. Franklin went back to watching the game on TV at the other end of the bar, and Dan scooted off the barstool. "I need to make a quick trip to the bathroom. Keep an eye on Franklin for me. Make sure he doesn't get lost." "If I get lost it's 'cause I'm on your momma," he called back, still facing the TV. "For fucks sake, Franklin, you got a nice girl listening to all this." "Pfffttt, nice? She's cleaning me out of El Mayor." He broke contact with the TV to give Montana a smile. Once the bathroom door shut behind Dan, she grabbed her handbag off the barstool next to her and set it on the bar. She reached inside, feeling for the small jar that once held a single serving of fancy apricot jam and came in a gift basket sent by a bride. Once her fingers found the cool glass, she glanced at Franklin, making sure he still faced the TV. She reached her other hand inside the small handbag and twisted the lid. It made a loud pop, and she flinched so hard she almost spilled it inside her handbag. She was lucky, she loved the handbag and gooping it up with her boyfriend's come would've surely ruined it. And there was so much come. She couldn't believe how much when she'd spit it into the jar earlier. She couldn't use it all, he'd certainly notice that.